


Bright Glories shall Unfold

by Daegaer



Category: Alexander Trilogy - Mary Renault
Genre: Ancient History, M/M, Male Friendship, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-25
Updated: 2006-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:50:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The race at Troy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bright Glories shall Unfold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roxie Ann](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Roxie+Ann).



> Thank you so much to my wonderful beta readers, toscas_kiss and louiselux!

 

 

Troy, Hephaistion thought, was sadly lacking in glory. He looked about him at the sad ruins and the regular hillocks, now faced with white stone, that the guides swore were the tombs of the heroes of old. He'd hoped for some view of the shining city, though in his heart he'd known it was long gone. Alexander had hoped for it too, he knew, though not one word of complaint had passed his lips.

For glory, Hephaistion thought, there was little recent that could surpass in his mind the sight of Alexander standing on the prow of the ship, dressed in armour burnished to brilliant light, his face also shining and almost too bright to look at. Hephaistion closed his eyes, thinking again of Alexander giving the note of the paean and then throwing the spear, straight and true, to embed itself in the beach. There were those who would laugh and say such gestures were to be expected from a romantic boy. Hephaistion was not one of them. Neither were the men, he thought, and heard again the great swell of sound as the men yelled Alexander's name over and over. Asia was spear-won land. All they had to do was claim it.

The smaller of the guides was saying something about the great wonders of Troy that had been hidden away for later generations to wonder at. Philotas caught Hephaistion's eye and smiled in a way that let him know that filthy jokes about Troy's wonders were probably being composed right at that moment. Hephaistion hoped the man would wait till they were away from the ruins before sharing them. Alexander was entranced, looking around as if he could see the white-towered city and the Achaeans' ships.

"We can show you the harp of Alexandros, called Paris," the guide said, clearly hoping that such a thing would please a later Alexander.

"No. Thank you," Alexander said coolly. "I'd rather see a brave man's harp used for singing songs of honour - show me Akhilles' harp if you have it."

The guides looked non-plussed, until they remembered they had something better, and promised a view of Akhilles' shield. Hephaistion ignored Philotas' hissed remarks and followed Alexander to the temple of Athena, drinking in the sight of the expectant face and shining eyes. The shield did not disappoint, the bronze Gorgon's head as hideous and terrifying as the poets said.

"He would not begrudge me borrowing his shield, don't you think?" Alexander murmured to Hephaistion, his eyes fixed on the bronze. "Such a thing should not be locked away and shown to visitors when it is used to glory and the battles of men."

"How could he deny it to you?" Hephaistion whispered. "It would be like a man denying his own child what was needed."

Alexander flashed a smile at him, as if he'd expected nothing less than such a truth. "I won't take it yet, I must think of a worthy thing to leave in its place. The armour I wore on the ship, perhaps." He nodded, the thing decided in his mind. "Hephaistion," he said, "Come with me for a moment." He led the way out from the temple and stood, looking silently over the plain. "There's so little left," he said. "Yet this place remembers the heroes and the touch of the gods. There is more here than treasures guarded for the sight of visitors, Hephaistion."

"Yes," Hephaistion said. "Any man might feel the touch of history here." Except their friends, he thought in sudden annoyance. Why could they not see what Alexander saw? What Alexander helped _him_ to see?

"Out there," Alexander said, his eyes fixed upon the well-tended tombs they had seen earlier that day. "I've been saving the best for last. We'll offer sacrifice at the tombs of Akhilles and Patrokles, you and I. Just you and I."

Hephaistion looked at him, his heart turning over within him. What they were to each other was their own business, he'd thought. To be acclaimed so publicly -- "Alexander," he said, and found his voice was rough with tears.

Alexander looked at him. "Who else would I do such a thing with?" he said. And smiled.

* * * 

The sub was hot, even though the day was yet so young. Hephaistion garlanded Patrokles' tomb and watched the blood of the sacrifice spilled out, steaming hot, upon the ground. Drink and be satisfied, shade, he thought. Tell me the secrets of your friendship, and know I am satisfied with mine. He looked to where Alexander stood, transfixed in thought. It was a perfect moment, he knew. Their friends, the whole army, it seemed, knew openly how he was regarded. Though friends should be careful of each other's honour it was very sweet to think of his own at this time.

Alexander came over to him, smiling like a man who had won everything he had wanted in life. Hephaistion chased the thought away. Let them defeat the Persians a time or two before he risked calling down the gods' spite, he told himself.

"Are you ready?" Alexander said.

"Yes," Hephaistion said, wondering if Alexander knew how he shone. "More than ready."

"Well, then," Alexander said, and waved up a servant. He stripped off his chiton and all jewellery but his ring. The servant took it all and waited for Hephaistion to do likewise. "It's a good morning for running," Alexander said as they walked over to the starting point he had had marked out. "Let's give the heroes a race worthy of them."

They stood, shoulder to shoulder, at the line, waiting for the signal. No sooner had the cry been given than Alexander was away, sprinting without a thought for holding anything back. Hephaistion was a step behind, his eyes focused not on the sunlight on Alexander's red-gold hair and oil-gleaming back, but on the course ahead of them. Alexander was fast, but so was he, and he had the advantage of longer legs. Step by agonising step he pulled ahead, the dust of Troy hard and warm beneath his feet. To his right the tombs around which they ran gleamed in the morning sun, the heroes' bones and ashes warmed by adoration and the blood of sacrifice. The finish line came closer and closer and then - so fast that Hephaistion thought for a moment he stood still - Alexander went past him, the soldiers calling his name, and was over the line and had already turned to catch him in his arms when Hephaistion finished.

"A good race," Alexander laughed, his chest heaving for breath. The light of ecstasy was still in his face, shining so brightly it hurt to look upon him. "The best of races, Hephaistion!"

Hephaistion nodded, trying to find the breath for his own laughter, winded from more than running. "I thought I had you there!"

Alexander grinned, flinging an arm about him. "Let's have breakfast," he said, leading Hephaistion away.

You think I lost, Hephaistion thought, smiling at those they passed. I won. I won.

* * *

"I envy Akhilles," Alexander murmured that night as they lay close pressed in his bed. "Not only did he have a good friend by his side while alive, but a good poet to preserve his memory when dead."

"Hush," Hephaistion said, sliding an arm beneath his head. "Such ill-omened talk! You'll have poets singing of you long before you leave this earth."

"They'd better," Alexander said with a laugh. "I'm planning on giving them plenty of material." He tightened his arms as Hephaistion snorted a laugh into his hair. "The poet's the only thing I envy Akhilles for," he said. "The friend I already have." He turned his head and pressed a kiss against Hephaistion's lips. "The best of friends," he said.

Hephaistion clung on, his heart full or words he was not sure how to say. What he did have to offer he gave, touching Alexander with joyful care and wondering how it was possible to receive so much pleasure in the giving of it to another. At last they slipped towards sleep, Hephaistion listening to the quiet sound of Alexander's voice, enjoying the touch of Alexander's fingers in his hair.

"The poets will sing of us both," Alexander said, the smile clear in his voice. "As long as I'm remembered, so too will you be. The world will never forget our names, Hephaistion, nor our friendship. Never."

"That's all I want," Hephaistion said gladly, and fell asleep, the glory of Troy in his arms.

 


End file.
